


we'll call it dignified

by psycheDahlia



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blushing, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Hand Jobs, Hands-free Orgasm, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Stripping, Teasing, vain Dennis and embarrassed Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheDahlia/pseuds/psycheDahlia
Summary: “Of course nothing’s going tomakeyou attracted to me, Charlie,” Dennis smirks. “I’m just trying to prove that you already are. That’s what you said, right? ‘Prove it’?”“‘Prove me wrong’,” Charlie corrects.Dennis grins, sharklike. “Gladly.”





	we'll call it dignified

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Percussion Gun" by White Rabbits

“Idiots!” Dennis bellows. “Goddamn braindead idiots!”

“Takes one to know one,” Charlie quips smoothly. Dee snorts, reaching over the bar and popping a cherry into her mouth.

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Not you lot, for once. Bethany and goddamn Miranda!”

“Is the ‘Goddamn’ part of her given name, or just her title?” Dee asks, grinning as she looks around to see if anyone’s laughing at her joke. (A corner of Charlie’s mouth twitches up, but he hides it well enough that she doesn’t see.)

“You goddamn bitch, Dee, let him tell the story,” Mac grunts, walking out from the back office. “Hey, Dennis, what happened? Beth’s car still broken down?”  
  
“Don’t call her Beth, Mac. Beth is a fat girl name,” Dennis admonishes, even though that's what Bethany prefers to be called. If the admonishment comes mostly from the fact that Mac remembered the nickname and car situation of his girl of the week when he’d never give Mac the same courtesy, well, no one needs to know that. Mac’s face falls slightly.  
  
“No, the lovely and _thin_ Bethany got her car fixed,” Dennis says, smiling fondly at the memory of slashing her tires and snipping her brake lines, then scowling when he remembers the current situation. “She just apparently also needs to get her _brain_ fixed, because goddamn _Miranda_ convinced her that one guy dating a set of twins is weird, somehow, and now neither of them will fuck me, let alone both at the same time!” He grabs a glass and slams it to the ground, where it doesn’t so much shatter as clunk depressingly. Now further annoyed, he kicks the glass and sends it careening off underneath one of the booths.

“What a crazy whirlwind life you lead, Dennis,” Dee laughs, “And such a manly tantrum! Goddamn Miranda doesn’t know what she’s missing.” She wanders off, content to leave at the point that Dennis seems most pathetic.

“Whatever, man,” Mac says, his voice low and soothing, grabbing Dennis’ shoulder to keep him from chasing after the glass further. He gives it a squeeze; Dennis shrugs him off and scowls in the direction of the glass but otherwise stays put. “I don’t think they were real twins anyway.”

“What?” Dennis snaps, whirling on him. “Of course they’re real twins. Don’t take away my accomplishment by implying they weren’t real twins, Mac, that’s not going to make me feel any better.” 

Mac puts his hands up. “I’m just saying, they had sister names.”

“Sister names?” Charlie pipes in, scratching at the back of his neck. “Like, like they’re sisters, and their names are also sisters, or…?”

“No, Charlie,” Mac says at the same time that Dennis pipes in, “That doesn’t make any sense, bud. Names can’t be related. They’re names.”  
  
“Huh,” Charlie says, nodding like that somehow explained anything at all to him. Dennis rolls his eyes.

“What do you mean ‘sister names’, dude?” Dennis asks Mac.

Mac starts chewing on one of the thin straws they put in cocktails. “Well, twin names are like...well, Dennis and Dee. Tia and Tamera. Zoey and Zelda.”

“And?”  
  
“And,” Mac says, “Bethany and Miranda aren’t those kind of names. They’re not twin names. They’re like, barely even sister names, dude. Sorry, you got played.”

“That’s absolutely wrong, Mac,” Dennis states, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is no _law_ mandating twins have to have names that sound similar. It’s just a dumb thing lazy parents do so they don’t have to come up with two names. Dee’s lucky she’s not named Denise, one step lazier.” 

"Hey, wait, first is worst,” Charlie points out. “You should be named Dean.”  
  
“You’d make a decent Dean,” Mac notes, pointing the chewed end of the straw at Dennis, who wrinkles his brow in disgust at both the name and the straw-brandishing.  
  
“Besides, Dennis,” Charlie says, eyes widening like something big has just occurred to him. “Maybe Goddamn Miranda just wasn’t feeling you. Or maybe neither of them were, beyond one freak incident that’s never going to happen again.” He’s being absolutely devastating, but he says it as friendly as can be.  
  
“Oooh,” Mac winces in spite of the friendly tone. “He’s kind of got a point, man, it does sound like that.”  
  
Dennis goes behind the bar and grabs himself a beer. “Well,” Dennis says, “aside from the fact that I’m not going to take any advice on someone not being into them from Charlie, of all people.”

“Why not?” Charlie asks, affronted.

“Is the Waitress into you, Charlie?”

Charlie furrows his brow. “The Waitress is a complicated being, Dennis, she’s not just... _into_ people or _not_ into people, it’s, it’s a spectrum, it’s...”

“Alrgiht, Charlie, sure, whatever. They just,” he throws up his hands with a fake grin, “weren’t into me, I’m sure that’s it.”  
  
“Doesn’t sound like you quite mean that,” Charlie remarks, tipping the neck of his bottle towards Dennis before taking a long swig.  
  
“Uh, because there’s a major flaw with that theory, Charlie - everyone’s into me.” Dennis pops his bottle open and pours half of it down his throat.  
  
Charlie and Mac exchange a glance.  
  
“Seriously, dude, you have to know that’s not true,” Charlie says.  
  
Dennis shakes his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, then checking his hand to see if his thin coat of transfer-proof MLBB* lipstick transferred. It hadn’t. “It is though, Charlie. Some people just aren’t brave enough to admit it.”  
  
Dennis tips his head towards Mac, who is reaching over the bar trying to get a beer and just barely misses the gesture.

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, _that_ one we all know is true, but _everyone_? That’s a little vain, man.”

“Huh?” Mac asks as he stands up. “What one?”

Charlie and Dennis mutually ignore him. “It would be vain if it weren’t true,” Dennis agrees. “I’ll give you that much. But it is true. I am literally everyone’s type.”

Charlie snorts. “Okay, man, sure.”  
  
“What?” Dennis says. “Prove me wrong.”

Charlie scoffs. “Uh, hello? Me? Right here? I’m not into you.”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Okay, now you’re just talking nonsense.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “Y-you think I’m…? Dude, I am _not_ into you! At all!” He slams his beer down so hard that if it weren’t in a bottle and also ¾ drank, it would have sloshed over.

“I don’t believe you,” Dennis says.

Charlie smirks. “What?” he says, mirroring Dennis’s challenge from seconds ago. “Prove me wrong.”

Dennis grins.

/  
  
Charlie watches from a tabletop, mouth slightly agape, as Dennis rolls his hips slowly to the beat pulsing from the small boom box perched on the bar.  
  
“This is weird, Den,” Charlie mutters.  
  
“You wanted me to prove it, right?” Dennis says. “Prove you’re attracted to me?”  
  
“This isn’t going to make me attracted to you,” Charlie states, his voice thick with...something. He’d call it discomfort, Dennis would call it want. “So what, uh, what are you…?”  
  
“Of course nothing’s going to _make_ you attracted to me, Charlie,” Dennis smirks. “I’m just trying to prove that you already are. That’s what you said, right? ‘Prove it’?”  
  
“‘Prove me wrong’,” Charlie corrects.  
  
Dennis grins, sharklike. “Gladly.”  
  
He undoes the top three buttons on his shirt, then trails his fingertips down his chest, biting his lip like it’s the best feeling in the world. He also lets out a soft noise that implies it’s an even better feeling, and at that Charlie’s eyes go wide.  
  
“Dude,” Charlie says. “This is…”  
  
“Shhh,” Dennis says. “Let me prove it.”

So Charlie goes quiet, watching as Dennis alternates between rolling his hips and undoing buttons until his shirt is completely undone. He plays up taking it off, sliding his fingers along his collarbones and slipping it off each shoulder individually, letting it pool at his elbows and fall away from his torso, exposing the full length of his chest to Charlie.

“I’ve seen you shirtless before, dude,” Charlie snorts. “We all have.”  
  
“Yeah, but this time?” Dennis says, walking towards Charlie slowly, deliberately, letting the shirt slip off one arm, then the other, falling to the floor behind him and pooling as he invades Charlie’s space, settling between his legs as Charlie leans back, catching himself with his hands against the tabletop.  
  
He leans in close to Charlie’s ear, letting his hot breath ghost over the shell of it, watching goosebumps form. The song comes to an end. All Dennis can hear is Charlie’s slightly quicker breathing.  
  
“This time it’s all for you, baby boy.”  
  
Charlie leans back away from him, staring with eyes wide, and Dennis grins. He’s got him. “Look at you,” Dennis mutters, then with a self-assured smirk, “my god, _look_ at you!”

“I can’t,” Charlie says, squirming on the tabletop. “That’s not even possible.”

“You want me to just tell you?” Dennis asks, his voice just oozing malice. God, he was loving this.

“Sure you do,” he finishes before Charlie has time to even process. “Cuz you look wrecked, Charlie, you really do. You should see yourself.”

“You say you’re not turned on by me?” Dennis demands. Charlie shakes his head ‘no’ ever so slightly. “You’ve got all the signs that say otherwise, man. Your pupils are so blown out, I bet you can’t even think straight.”  
  
Dennis slips a hand up underneath Charlie’s shirt. He gasps in surprise as Dennis runs a hand up through his chest hair before seeking out a nipple, flicking his thumb back and forth over it rapidly. Charlie breathes a little quicker, mouth opening into a soft pink O. “Wow. I knew your nips were standing at least a little cuz I could see them through your shirt, but holy shit, man, your nipples are like hard little pebbles, do you feel that?”  
  
Charlie gives a ghost of a nod. Dennis grins, withdrawing his hand and resting it on Charlie’s thigh. He just barely catches the choked-off whimper Charlie makes when Dennis leaves his sensitive nipples too soon, but he’s _so_ glad that he does.  
  
He slides his hand up Charlie’s thigh slowly, watching his throat bob as he swallows, hard.  
  
“Plus your lips are red cuz you’ve been biting them, Charlie.” He undoes the button on his jeans, ignoring Charlie’s soft gasp of surprise. “I’ve been watching you biting at your lips trying not to get turned on but it clearly didn’t work, right?” He gets the zipper down, the sound of it loud in the empty bar. “Because this right here tells me everything I need to know.”  
  
“What does?” Charlie asks, his voice a soft broken thing like he’s scared to know.  
  
“ _This,”_ he punctuates the statement by sliding his hand into his boxers and with a firm, sudden squeeze to Charlie’s cock. Charlie makes a noise like Dennis just kicked him in the gut, which trails off into a surprised moan. Dennis doesn’t so much as grin as flash his teeth, white and reflecting the light from the dimmed lamp hanging over the booth. “My god, your cock is so _hard_ , man, I can feel your heartbeat in every single one of my fingers,” He frees Charlie’s cock from his clothes, drawing it out into the open. He mock-gasps. “And the tip of it is _so damn red,_ Charlie, I’d almost swear it’s blushing.”  
  
“Oh, and _you’re_ blushing, too, by the way,” Dennis continues, reaching out with his free hand to cup Charlie’s face right as he finds the perfect rhythm, the one that makes Charlie's knuckles go white gripping the tabletop. Charlie’s lips part slightly like he’s expecting something, something Dennis isn’t about to give right now. “Right here.” He traces the line of blush along Charlie’s cheekbone. “And here.” He traces the other cheek. “Little bit here, too.” He touches Charlie’s nose with the tip of his finger, only as an excuse to then let his finger fall, brushing Charlie’s parted lips feather-light and teasing, letting his fingertip keep trailing down so it pulled at Charlie’s lower lip slightly, parting his lips a bit more. Charlie’s tongue pokes out slightly but Dennis only lets him get a tiny taste before he’s pulling away fast to instead rest his hand on the tabletop right next to Charlie’s hip, knowing he could feel the proximity.

“Yeah, well,” Charlie says, self-effacing smile on his flushed face, “you’re touching my…” He trails off, unable to say it. “And...and you’re looking at it, talking about how, how hard it is, I’m...yeah, gonna start fuckin’ blushing, man.”

“Wouldn’t make me blush,” Dennis says confidently,. “Would make me feel hot. Don’t you feel hot?”

“I feel warm,” Charlie admits. “It’s kinda sweaty in here.”

Dennis snorts. “It’s freezing in here, Charlie, you’re just sweating because you’re _that_ turned on by me.”

Charlie swallows. “Yeah? You wish.” Dennis knows it’s a bluff, he _knows_ , but he’s intrigued by what exactly Charlie’s trying to bait him into.

“I didn’t mean that kind of hot, anyway, Charlie,” Dennis corrects. “Hot like...attractive. Like sexy.” 

“I look sexy? Right now?” Charlie asks, wrinkling his nose like he just doesn’t see it. “I don’t…”  
  
“Are you kidding me, Charlie? Of course you do.” And he does, too - hair all messy, biting his lip and blushing with his cock out and hard in the back of the fucking bar.  
  
Charlie kind of giggles at that, but the giggle turns into a sudden moan that seems to surprise Charlie himself as he dribbles pre-cum all over Dennis’ fist.

His eyes slip closed so he doesn’t catch the brief flash where Dennis loses his composure and his eyes go wide watching Charlie’s cock leak onto his fingers. By the time Charlie blinks his eyes open, Dennis is smirking and Charlie is blushing even harder than before, once he looks down and sees what Dennis is seeing.

“I...uh…” Charlie stammers. “I mean that’s just…”

“From me touching you?” Dennis finishes, as if the lewd, loud, slick sound of his hand on Charlie's skin wasn't statement enough. Charlie looks up and nods in relief. “I understand, pal, really I do.”

“Really?” Charlie asks.

“Really, buddy, in fact I have a backup plan,” Dennis explains. Charlie looks at him skeptically. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I saw this coming a mile away.”

Dennis leans down to Charlie’s ear again and murmurs, “You’re not getting out of it that easy.”

And suddenly he’s letting go and backing up and Charlie, Charlie looks goddamn panicked as Dennis just leaves him there with his cock leaking and exposed and desperate to be touched. Dennis kicks off his shoes and undoes the button on his own jeans.

“Don’t worry,” Dennis repeats, “I gotcha.”

He shimmies out of his jeans (pretty swiftly, considering they’re tailored so tightly), leaving him in just a pair of tight navy blue boxer briefs that aren’t leaving much to the imagination, including the fact that Dennis is now only slightly less aroused than Charlie, albeit keeping it together infinitely better.

“So,” Dennis says, hooking a thumb in his waistband. “Still not into me?”

Charlie stammers. “I-I-I mean, I thought we…”

Dennis slides the boxers down to expose the full length of a jutting white hip, then hooks his other thumb into the other side. “Still?”

Charlie runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. He licks his lips. “Dennis, can we just…”

He slides them down again, exposing his other hip. The only thing keeping the waistband of the boxers in place now is his own obscenely hard bulge. “How about now, buddy? Still not into me?”

Charlie just gapes, staring at Dennis’ barely-hidden cock. The fabric is so thin, he can see the exact shape of it, the curve of the head, all of it. He’s panting, biting his lip, cheeks impossibly red. “Dennis…”

What happens next is almost too quick to catch.

Dennis flips his waistband down, his cock bobbing out to brush his stomach. Charlie, seeing Dennis’ hard, flushed cock in the dim bar light, can't hold it together anymore.

“Oh my god, okay, yes!” he cries, and comes, hands-free; his cock twitches and he lets out a loud, desperate moan. Dennis watches every second of it, a thirsty look in his eyes, but as soon as Charlie's breathless and finished Dennis quickly gets himself covered back up and crosses the room, grabbing his shirt off the floor on the way.

“So?” Dennis asks sweetly.

Charlie, panting and exhausted, stares up at Dennis with glassy eyes. “I’m...you’re attractive, okay, fine! I’m attracted to you. I’m into you! Whatever! Fuck, man.”

“Good to hear!” Dennis grins, clapping Charlie on the shoulder. He holds up his own shirt. “You wanna wear my shirt home, loverboy?” He runs a finger through one of the sticky puddles on Charlie’s shirt. They both wince. "You got a little something on yours."

Charlie snatches the shirt. “You’re a real bastard, you know that, Dennis?”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “What, for showing you my dick and making you squirt all over yourself? You oughta thank me. Looked to me like you had a pretty good time.”

“Whatever,” Charlie mutters. It's almost redundant to say he's blushing at this point, but he is. Again.

Dennis smirks, leaving Charlie to change his shirt while he shimmies back into his jeans and gets his shoes on.

“By the way,” Charlie says, appearing suddenly behind him. Dennis turns, smiling at the sight of Charlie slightly swimming in Dennis’ too-large blue button-down. “You’re into me, too.”

Dennis furrows his brow. “Uh, no. That wasn’t the point of the exercise, the point…”

He’s choked off into silence as Charlie chooses that moment to grab Dennis’ still-hard cock through his jeans.

“This right here tells me everything I need to know,” Charlie says, then goes up on his tiptoes, still gripping Dennis by the dick. Wraps a hand around the back pf Dennis' neck and whispers in his ear:

“Don't worry. I gotcha.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> *MLBB: "Makeup artists and beauty bloggers are always talking about finding your perfect MLBB (My Lips But Better) shade. You know the one—the lipstick that's basically the same shade as your lips but adds just a bit more depth and intensity to your pout." - FashionMagazine.com
> 
> ...is this the time to tell you all I wrote this sick as a dog with a decent fever going? Hopefully its something resembling coherent. Don't you guys ever just get the flu and want to write Charden porn? No? Just me?
> 
> PLEASE leave a comment if you read it you don't even know how much your comments mean to me <3
> 
> (find me on tumblr: psychedelic-iridescent.tumblr.com)


End file.
